Letter to Santa From 1951 Yerington Kid

Letter to Santa From 1951 Yerington Kid

Email to Deirdre Pederson

You may have already read this before, but it is too precious not to share.  This is a letter written to Santa by your brother Michael.  It is in the book, A Journal of 100 years:  Catholic Life in Yerington and Smith Valley , Nevada, compiled by Ione Minister

Dec 21, 1951

Letters to Santa

Dear Santa,

Me and Denny are trying to be good we want bikes.  The big ones and can we have tinker toys too.  Bring our sister something.  We haven’t had her long so anything will be o.k.  Denny can’t write, this is his too.  I will pray for you

Michael Grulli

Nevada Trip Journal November, Saturday 21, 2015 Yerington to Lake Tahoe

Nevada Trip Journal November, Saturday 21, 2015 Yerington to Lake Tahoe

Karen Dodd and myself at Dini’s

Had an 8:30 breakfast with Karen Dodd before checking out of the Copper Inn Motel.  Karen is another fascinating person who lived part of her life on a sailboat with her husband and is an seasoned scuba diver.  We were high school classmates as well.  I really enjoyed getting reconnected despite the fact that my cold was increasing in intensity.

Mary Burns at her home in Gardnerville.  Mary “Bunz” Burns is a real Nevada history buff.  We visited in her “Nevada” family room.  She was generous enough to lend me 64 old magazine on Nevada hoping it would help on my Yerington Monday posts.  I was suppose to meet with her in Gardnerville at 11 am, but I was so weak from my cold it took me an hour and a half to load my car.  Arrived around 1:30 pm.  Was glad to hear that she would be retiring as of Dec 26 and take to traveling the back roads.  She has been an x-ray technician for over 30 years specializing in mammograms. Mary is a “first friend” who I gave a blood nose when we were about 8-9 years old, but she had such a great sense of humor, we remained friends after our very short Mighty Might boxing match.

Gardnerville to Lake Tahoe is only 40 miles but I had to stop twice because I was feeling drowsy from cold medicine.  This is a cloud I saw during one stop.  Pyramid Cloud between Gardnerville and Carson City.  What does it mean?

Finally, I  arrived at Dan’ & Robin’s home in Incline Village, Nevada.  I was totally spent and glad to be able to turn into a safe harbor.

Dan’s Birthday Party

Dan had a birthday party at his home in Incline Village with his backing packing friends from Carson City. They have all been backpacking together since the 70’s.  It was a make your-own-pizza party that was then barbecued on Dan’s Cadillac  grill.  I didn't know any of them except Dennis & Deirdre Pederson

Dennis Pederson rolling out dough for his pizza.

Dan cooking pizza crusts for pizzas on his grill on the deck.

The party guests on deck waiting for their pizza crusts.

Birthday boy (Happy 66), Dan, with dinner guests.

Dan modeling Dennis Pederson's gift - - a Santa loin cloth.  (Me sitting in a comfy chair in living room -tired but amused.)

This was a picture of Dan’s hiking friends in the 1970’s.  We all laughed at the short shorts.  Dennis Pederson (left) and Dan with mustache (third from left)

Nevada Trip Journal: Monday 16, 2015 Lake Tahoe to Yerington

Nevada Trip Journal:  Monday 16, 2015 Lake Tahoe to Yerington

Left Lake Tahoe after 1 pm.  Drove down the grade to Carson City.  I took the route through Gardnerville, Smith Valley and then on to Yerington.  The roads were still a little icy in places.  I was glad to see that the Walker River in Wilson Canyon had some water in it after the drought, even though it looks like a small stream instead of a roaring river now.

View of Carson Valley from the grade.

In Smith Valley, I stopped by Beverly Brown’s old 5 acre farm.  Beverly was my daughter Shannon’s grandmother.  We spent many a pleasant visit on this little farm over the years. I have been trying to find out about Beverly ever since my daughter died in 2009.  That was the last time I talked with her.  I have tried to find out about her on visits home but to no avail.  I do not know if she is in a nursing home or dead.  I am really heartbroken that I cannot find out.  If anyone reading this posts knows anything about her, please let me know.  I would be eternally grateful.

The barn and out buildings on Beverly Brown’s farm on River Street in Smith, Valley.

From Smith Valley, after Wilson Canyon, I took the long route to Yerington through the farm lands of Mason Valley.  It is such a beautiful valley.  Finally at dusk I reach my motel.  Staying at the Copper Inn all week.

This is my room at the Copper Inn - Room 8.  If you cannot make it on Friday to the Facebook Meetup and want to stop by the motel, I am giving you an open invitation. Room 8 in in the back.

Decided to check out the new Pioneer Crossing Casino.  Had a good french dip sandwich and on my way out decided to play some penny slots.  I was thinking maybe I can win enough to pay for my dinner which was $10 with tip.  After ten minutes of playing I won $70.  Yahoo!  Thank you Pioneer Crossing.

Yerington’s 1950’s Kids Chase The Mosquito Truck

Yerington’s 1950’s Kids Chase The Mosquito Truck

A Memoir by Mary Burns

(Published in the Mason Valley News in 1987)

Burns Kids 1950's

Mary Burns

The year is 1959(ish) in a South Yerington neighborhood after dinner on hot July evening. Twenty or so juvenile type renegades come streaming out of our houses and start gathering on the big lawn.  Our tummies now full - we are ready for some action.  

Could this be the night? It hasn’t happened in awhile. Maybe it will show tonight.  Twenty little kids, nauseous with anticipation, are impatiently shifting around the big lawn.  At dusk, the slaughter house’s pungent fragrance permeates the air.  “Where is it?”.  “A no show?” (Hissssss) -”Quiet everybody!!  Do you hear that?”  “Ah, Dennis, knock it off, you’re always imagining things.”  Dejectedly, we slowly, wander to the best hide and seek house.  I guess “it’s not coming tonight”.  What a drag.  Another boring night of hide and seek….(Hissss) Then louder (Hissss)...”Hey guys, hold on, ya hear that?”  We looked….and there it was!  The sure sign of our famous visitor -  a dark cloud about four blocks away.  We dashed for our bikes and raced our flat wheeled machines toward the dark hissing cloud - forty little legs in a blur.

We flew around the corner as one unit and immediately slammed on our brakes.  “Wow, guys, look at that!  The biggest, darkest, badest, loudest clouded ever.”  This is amazing!!...  This is better than Disneyland!…This is the mosquito  fogger!!.. And the chemicals are stronger than ever!  We each disappear into the poisonous cloud - in ecstasy - riding blindly. “This is great - I can’t even see my handlebars.  The best  fog bank in weeks!”  The noxious fumes penetrate our every pore and we reek with pleasure. My eyes are streaming hot lava and I’m sure I’m blind.  My lungs suffocating with fire, are screeching for air.  My nose is stinging and starting to run.  I start to cough, gag and choke.  “This is super and who says there’s nothing to do in Yerington?”  Eventually, one by one, we fall back out of the poisonous vapors.  As the fogger lumbers down the street, we circle our bikes for the storytelling part of the experience. I think Billy won that night.  He said he rode right up to the poison emitting spout and put his finger in it!  What a man! (What a B.S.’er!)

Darkness was near now.  Being on the downhill slope of our adrenalin highs. we were physically and emotionally spent and welcomed the calling home by our moma. (Actually Danny’s dad whistled him home,  as did Billy’s and Larry’s, and my mom honked the car horn three times,) The calm of the evening  had returned as we shuffled to our respective homes.  Just as the screen doors closed us in, we could hear twenty maternal voices shrieking through the screened windows and out into the sultry evening.  “Whew, get into the bathtub right now and take off those clothes off outside”, to which twenty little juvenile type renegades whined, “But mom, I went swimming today. ‘member?  I don’t need a bath”

I can’t speak for the Utah accountant, insurance broker, airline pilot, assessor, Governor’s chauffeur, Nevada State special investigator, telephone company retiree, M.D., R,N., Yerington businesswoman, newspaper owner/editor, attorneys, educators, trucking exec, contractor, butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who came out of that neighborhood; but I do know that the weekly dose of caustic fumes inhaled in our lungs and brain tissue didn’t bother me...bother me...bother me…  It’s the North Yerington kids I’d worry about!  Oh, yes, and as for our dogs, our ever faithful companions - who stuck with us through thick and thin or mosquito foggers - they either died from old age or car tag (as did their offspring).

The bottom line is encephalitis and other mosquito related diseases can be -and are often- deadly.  Do what it takes to get a handle on it!

You May Be From Yerington In the 50’s-70’s If…. (Part One)

You May Be From Yerington In the 50’s-70’s If…. (Part One)

(Compiled by Mary Burns and Chere Brown)

...You wait to plant your “toms” ‘till after the snow melts off Pevine. (I’m loving all the southern Californian gardeners out today - we’ll have another freeze - guaranteed) (MB)

 

...You know what a Lion’s Club Manure Haul is (was?)  (Lions club manure clean up for the fair. They haul the previous days straw and manure away to keep the fair clean.) (MB)

   

  

...You remember school sports and activities were the town’s rallying hub. (MB)

...You called in sick at school on Friday - then went to a home game.  The principal would remember you were out that day - and send you home. And on that day, you did call in sick, ”Ma” Ricketts, the schools secretary, would call your home later to check. (Did she check on teachers, too?) (MB)

...You would say you worked on “the hill” and there were no questions. (Reminds me - Dorthelia Hill, a bunch of years ago, told me her son worked on “the hill” - and when I asked her how long he’d been back home - she choked and said she meant Capitol Hill in D.C.) (MB)

   

    

...You can remember when we had one TV station. - Bob Carroll, Betty “a nip here and a tuck there” McIntyre, Stroddard, Muncie. (“We were the last family to get TV.” MB) And it would sign off at midnight with the “Star Spangle Banner”. (CB)

               

 

 

 

...You remember the only radio stations were KOH (Catus Tom) and KVLV (Eddie Pearce - Teensville, and Ted Romero, and Gallagher’s Livestock and The Trading Post) (MB)

...You remember when all drivers stopped at the crosswalk in front of the Thrifty Market and the Post Office, whether there were pedestrians or not, just to scope out all the sidewalk happenings.  And you actually enjoyed daily trips to the Post Office. (MB)

Terror On Alt 95

Terror On Alt 95

At the crossroads of Silver Spring, I pulled into a gas station to get my daughter, Shannon, a soda.  She had been demanding a coke for over fifteen minutes.  She was only three years old, but knew what she wanted. The afternoon was warm and we had no air conditioning in our car back in the early 70’s.  I was thirsty too.  We were going to visit my mother in Yerington about thirty-three miles away. Silver Springs was a true crossroad. East was Fallon, West led to Carson City, North was Fernley from which we had just passed through from Reno where we lived, and South lead to our destination, Yerington and then to Las Vegas. For thirty miles, give or take, in any direction from Silver Springs was mainly desert with no services.  To this respect Silver Springs was a little oasis for travelers.

I was in no hurry this day.  I took Shannon to the restroom and got her a Coke and her favorite “potato chips with windows” - pretzels.  She was delighted.  In those days we did not have car seats for children or seat belts. I stood her in the passenger seat - her favorite way to ride, so she could see everything.  I had to wait for two other cars to pass before I pulled from the gas station.

I was reminded of a time a few years back, when at this very crossroads, I picked up a skinny bare-chested, bare-footed hippie in work overalls, who had only a large family-size Bible clutched to his chest. “Where are you headed?” I yelled at him through the open passenger window.  “Las Vegas.” he replied. “Well come on, I can take you as far as Yerington.” I motioned to him.  We visited and talked about the Lord and when we arrived in Yerington, I offered to buy him something to eat, but he refused as he was anxious to get to Las Vegas. I figured he was fasting and on a mission from God. I dropped him on the corner of Main & Goldfield.  I always wondered how he made out.

Even though Silver Springs had very few buildings and businesses, it had a 25 mile per hour speed limit that went for miles.  It alway irritated the hell out of me.  Nevadans were use to driving fast as there were no speed limits outside of city limits. “Why does Silver Springs have such a large city limit?” I would cursedly question every time I went through it.  Most the time the further from the crossroads, the faster I would go.  However, this afternoon I was behind a California tourist in a black Buick, who was following the speed limit exactly.  Every time I tried to pass, oncoming traffic prevented me.

I impatiently tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, whistled in the air and cursed under my breath, “son of a bitch!”.  I was looking ahead for the speed limit to change, so I could pass this “jerk”.  The road from here to Yerington was only a two-lane highway, one lane for each direction.  Everyone in Nevada knew the rules and politeness of driving these kind of roads. Don’t keep your brights on at night for oncoming traffic, always keep a watch out for deer and cattle in the open range, slow down when someone tries to pass in both directions, leave plenty of space to pass and don’t pass on a double line. Additionally, be careful not to hit the soft shoulders as you could get into a car roll with nothing to stop you.  People have been known to roll up to twenty times over the flat sagebrush-covered desert before coming to a stop.

Finally, we reached the end of the speed limit and began to accelerate.  Still there were a few oncoming cars.  When they passed I looked ahead and saw a large oncoming semi-truck very far ahead.  I had plenty of room and time to pass. I put on my blinker and increased my speed to overtake the Buick.  To my surprise, the Buick accelerated to match my speed.  I accelerate more and so did he.  I stepped on it to 90 miles per hour.  He matched me.  “What the hell is he trying to do?”  I yelled into the air.  “Kill us?”  I was eyeing the semi getting closer and so decided to back off and pull back in behind him.  As I slowed, so did he.  “He is trying to kill us!” I exclaimed.

I looked at the driver in the Buick.  He was a 30ish man with black hair and an evil smirk. His girlfriend was beside him and she was laughing.  This was great fun for them. I looked across at the man and hand signaled him to let me in.  His eyebrows lifted into a murderous arch. Now I was getting really scared.  My mind was racing.  What to do? In split-second thinking, I viewed my three options.  I could have a head-on with the truck, I could turn into the Buick on the right, or I could veer to the left and try and hold the car upright across the desert. All options were disastrous.

As the truck drew nearer, I knew I must make a move.  I yelled, “You may kill us, but this is what I think of you!” and violently flipped him the bird.  At this point, he slammed on his brakes to let me in.  I slide to the right in front of him just seconds before an inedible head-on collision could have occurred.  I was still shaking when we reached my mothers house.  It began to sink in how close we had come to dying that day.  The personification of evil for delight has puzzled me since that event.  I cannot conceive it.  I did learn one thing. When all our options are explored, there may still be one more option - a miracle.